


Everybody Lives, Take One

by AMarguerite



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, barricade fix-it fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMarguerite/pseuds/AMarguerite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the barricade falls, one Dr. John Smith makes an unexpected announcement, at the urging of his red-haired companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Lives, Take One

“The day embraces the night, and says to it: `I am about to die, and thou shalt be born again with me.’ From the embrace of all desolations faith leaps forth. Sufferings bring hither their agony and ideas their immortality. This agony and this immortality are about to join and constitute our death. Brothers, he who dies here dies in the radiance of the future, and we are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.”

They all watched Enjolras attentively; the golden head remained unbowed, the blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon. There was no applause, only whispering, each man taking what truth he could from this speech.

One man in particular sat frowning, perching on the jutting edge of the omnibus like a bird. The flip of brown hair above his forehead, and his great rapidity of speech to his companion, whose red hair was tucked up under a cap, added to this effect.

“Some things are fixed, some things are in flux—”

“The only fixed thing is the fall of the barricade, you said that yourself!”

“I am the last of the Time Lords—”

“Oh bite me, alien boy,” snapped his companion. “Oi! You! Yes, you, you long streak of nothing. My friend the Doctor here—” jerking a thumb at the brown-haired man “—has got something to say.”

“Donna—”

“No chance, Spaceman!”

The brown-haired man made a frustrated noise, as the street echoed with the sound of a canon rumbling over the cobblestones.

“You have one last chance to surrender!” cried a loudhailer.

“I’ll give you one last chance to surrender,” snarled the red-head, manhandling her companion. “Look at these boys, about to enter into tombs all flooded with the dawn instead of having a bit of a snog in the back garden with the kitchen maid— do something! We have to save someone!”

“We are not afraid to die,” said Enjolras.

There came a rattle of bayonets being attached to carbines from the other side of the barricade, to the muffled shouts of their officers. 

Courfeyrac reached for a hat that was no longer there. “The devil. The canon has finally taken my topper, I cannot tip it to the Grim Reaper. An inelegant way to go.”

Enjolras briefly clasped his hand. “Picture the future.”

This seems to resonate with the brown-haired man who, after wavering, said, “Well, I will for you and you know what? You’re in it.”

“As martyrs,” one of the workers said, a little glumly.

“Nope, everybody lives!” The man pushed aside part of the omnibus to reveal a large, blue box. “Get in.”

“I’d rather go fighting than hiding,” said a worker, wearing Mme Huchleoup’s large straw hat.

“We’re not hiding,” said the red-head, cheerfully, “we’re running.”


End file.
